We lived to build it, not to live,

And once the rafters were in place we added filigree,
Reliefs: two travelers dismounting

From a single horse. The rooms accumulated
And their edges wore away—

The lining iridescent, water-smooth.
We knew that hunger is a way of persons outside windows

The entering takes away

But we had no entrance as we had no map
For how it grew. Two travelers.

A trail widening to a road, a thoroughfare: beyond—

Edge of the water, broken shells.
When we had all the room we'd ever need

We imagined a grain of sand.
Rubbed it, held it in our mouths until it gained

A luster: moonlight on the abraded

Surface of the water and the horse
Impatient as we stood aside, apart, creating

The exterior inside.

– James Longenbach